


And I Had A Feeling I Belonged

by redstaronmyshoulder (CaptainAmelia22)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe-Sperm Bank, Artificial Insemination, Baby Daddies, Everyone is together and it's all great, F/F, Fertility Clinics, Found Family, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Partners, Mutual Masturbation, New Parents, Polyamory, Sperm Donors, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7743355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmelia22/pseuds/redstaronmyshoulder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sperm Donor fic meets found family fic. </p><p>Two couples are brought together and ultimately become the family they never knew they needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Ticket To Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been sitting in my WIP folder, mostly finished (which is the story of my life anymore) for three months now and I can't let it go. 
> 
> I love these four so much and the weird modern setting just makes it for me. 
> 
> I'm going to try and post this on a schedule-we'll shoot for Thursdays-but I make no promises. I haven't done a multi-chaptered story for a while. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> -M

**FN-2187**

**Donors Needed** the ad read in bold typeface.  **Pays handsomely per sample.**

The sperm bank was named First Order, which probably should have seemed shady, but the address was in a nice part of town-a  _ classy _ part of town-and it was open on his day off. 

“Guess it’s worth a shot,” he muttered, tearing the ad out of the paper and shoving it in his back pocket before downing the last of his cheap gas station coffee. He unlocked his bike from the stand outside of the disgusting corner motel he’d been calling home for the past few weeks and headed in the direction of 7 D’Qar Street. 

It took him nearly forty-five minutes to get there, from his part of town and his legs were turning to jelly by the time he finally found the nondescript office with its cool grey exterior and minimalist sign.

He’d never have known it was a sperm bank and fertility clinic if he hadn’t been looking for it.

As it was, he passed it twice, the GPS on his phone chiming every time he blew past, telling him to re-route in its coolly impersonal voice. 

He parked his bike a block away, across the street from a nice looking mechanic shop (named  _ Ben’s _ ) and took a deep breath, willing his heart to chill and the sweat dripping down his back to evaporate. 

Finally, after about five minutes of revving himself up, he felt like he was as ready as he could ever be.

Ready to jack off in a plastic cup so some bimbo of a housewife could turkey baste herself in hopes of keeping her husband around.

“What the hell am I doing?” he muttered to himself as he pushed through the heavily tinted plate glass fronted doors of number 7. “Get out of here right the fuck now.”

The interior of First Order was as minimal and unassuming as its exterior and he began to suspect it was purposeful. 

Which just made him want to run even more. 

He caught the eye of one other guy in the space and flushed when he grinned and winked. He was seated in one of the stiff, stainless steel framed chairs, completely relaxed. His dark hair tumbled over his brow in curls and swirls and his olive skin glowed under the harsh natural clinic lights. 

He nodded towards the receptionist and winked again before turning back to his magazine.

“Hello and welcome to First Order, how may I help you today?”

The desk receptionist was tall, her short blonde hair swept in a small mohawk. Her scrubs were made out of a strange silvery fabric and she looked absolutely bored. 

Her silver name tag read  _ Phasma. _

Which, he was pretty sure, wasn’t her real name.

She perfectly encapsulated the space and he wasn’t sure if that was the most bizarre thing about this whole adventure or the least.

He swallowed and told her his name, before pulling out the newspaper clipping. 

“I’m interested in donating?” he said, unable to stop the question in his voice and the guy seated in the far corner of the clinic laughed to himself; he blushed and tried to stand straighter. To look more confident.

To look like he hadn’t been living in a cheap inner-city motel for the past month after graduating from military school and leaving for the city without telling anyone where he was going.

The receptionist took the clipping, holding it delicately between thumb and forefinger as if it might rear up and bite her, before throwing it in the empty trashcan at her feet and sighed. “We don’t use names here,” she began, her voice devoid of any sort of emotion and she slapped a clipboard covered in a small stack of forms in front of him. “So for all intents and purposes, while you are in this space, you will be called and answer to…” she glanced at her computer and then his driver’s license, which he’d pulled free of his wallet and typed something on her keyboard, her silver nails flashing. “FN-2187.” She smacked a stamp on the top of the first page, making him jump and the letters and numbers she’d just rambled off glared up at him in stark black ink.  “They’ll do a background check on you, do a few blood tests and take a sample. You’re to fill out every form, sign them and turn them back into me before you’re taken back by one of our staff. And you will answer them as honestly as you can, or else this whole thing will not work out well for you.” 

Her pale blue eyes flashed, the first bit of emotion he’d seen her express since he’d arrived and he straightened even further. She reminded him of his old drill sergeants back at Stark Iller. 

He almost wondered if he should salute. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said, the words purely habit and he hurried away from her desk, the clipboard and pen clutched tightly to his chest. 

He hesitated, heart hammering as he considered the empty clinic seats and finally, with a deep calming breath, sat in one of the unbelievably uncomfortable chairs across the waiting room from the dark-haired, cockily handsome guy who’d winked at him.

Who he struggled to ignore.

The first form was simple.

_ Name. _ He wrote that, pretty sure they meant his actual name and not the one he had just been given.

_ Address. _ He hesitated, glancing at the receptionist, who was studying her flashy silver nails and steadfastly ignoring them, and wrote his parent’s address down. His records would show that as his home address, surely, even though he’d been stuck in boarding schools for most of his life and had only been to his parent’s house once a year since he was eight. 

He signed that form, after writing down his date of birth, his driver’s license number and his blood type.

The second form was trickier. 

“‘List any accomplishments or awards you may have received,’” he read, sweat breaking out along his hairline. The pen began to shake in his hand and he skipped to the next line. “‘Highest level of education’?”

He was so focused on not panicking he almost didn’t notice his chair jostling. 

“That one’s utter bullshit, buddy,” a smooth voice said, laughter underlining the words. “Don’t think they honestly look at it once they figure out you’re not a serial killer or a registered sex offender.”

He glanced up in surprise to see the guy who’d winked when he’d arrived, sprawled beside him. He was grinning, dark eyes sparkling with laughter and everything about him screamed “sexy and confident.”

“Poe,” he said, offering his hand for a shake. “Poe Dameron. Welcome to the Ice House. What’s your name?”

“FN-2187?” he said lamely, glancing nervously towards the receptionist who was still ignoring them. 

Poe snorted and shook his head, shedding his weathered leather jacket as he did, before tossing it over the arm of his chair. “‘FN-2187’? Yeah right. What’s your real name?”

He bit his lip, the words  _ or else this whole thing will not work out well for you _ and  **pays handsomely** echoing in his skull, and he shook his head firmly. “I think I’ll stick with the one they just gave me,” he said, shifting the clipboard on his lap, away from curious eyes.

Poe laughed and shrugged. “All right. I get it,” he said, stretching his legs out in front of him and resting his head on the wall. He closed his eyes but as the pen began to scratch once more across page number two, he rolled his head and slid one eye open. 

“Gonna call you Finn, I think,” he said, grinning before settling back in the damned uncomfortable chair and folding his hands over his stomach. “Yeah, Finn’s a good name for you.” 

He didn’t say anything about that, just kept writing-anything and everything that might make sense and make him seem more accomplished than he probably was-and tried to keep his eyes to himself.

The clinic settled into silence for a long moment, just his pen scratching across the page and he found himself wondering how often Poe Dameron came here and if he himself were accepted as a donor, if he’d ever see him again. Several times he opened his mouth to ask a question but each time he shook himself and turned his eyes back to the forms. 

Finally the door leading into the back of the clinic opened and a slender man with red hair and a petulant expression on his face walked through; Poe winked at “Finn,” rubbed his hands together and stood just as the red haired clinic employee called his number. 

“Good luck buddy,” he said, tossing the magazine back onto his chair. “Don’t get too caught up in yourself. They’re more desperate to have you than you are to have them.”

He sauntered away, clapping the staffer on the shoulder with a cheerful, “Heya Hux, how’s the freezer treating you?” and then the door was closing behind him, cutting off Hux’s bored voice saying “PD-3476, if I’d known it was you, I’d have had Ren take over” and Finn was left alone. 

Alone with the forms and Phasma, who was watching him now, with narrowed eyes; he signed the last one hurriedly and took the clipboard bearing his entire medical and life history to her, which she snatched from him without even glancing at it and slid through a slot in the wall at her back.

He smiled uncertainly once more in her direction and began heading back to his spot, glancing towards Poe’s empty seat.

Poe’s  _ mostly _ empty seat.   
“Um, excuse me? Ma’am?” he called, his eyes locked on Poe’s forgotten brown leather jacket. 

He didn’t get a chance to continue; the door was opened once more and a tall man with long black hair pulled back in a small bun at the back of his head and cold black eyes, stepped through and called his name and number. 

Finn hesitated, glanced at the jacket and then at the newest arrival and as a black brow was arched in his direction he sighed and grabbed the jacket and rushed over, heart racing and palms clammy.

“Hi, yeah, that’s me,” he stammered, mouth dry and body in full flight mode.

“Considering you’re the only one here, I figured as much,” the staffer said dryly, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from his black scrubs. “Come on through FN-2187 and we’ll start the process.” 

Poe’s jacket clutched tight in his arms-it was starting to feel like a talisman of safety and luck now, its owner’s scent washing over him comfortingly-he stepped through the silver door leading into the back of First Order and into the cold, sterile world of fertility. 

“Use this,” the black haired nurse said. His nametag said Ren. 

The plastic cup bearing Finn’s number glared at him from Ren’s palm and he swallowed nervously. “Do I just,” he choked, making a jerk-off motion quickly with his free hand and Ren sighed. 

“That’s the idea, I’m sure,” he said, his dry tone rasping over Finn’s frazzled nerves like sandpaper. “Or else there’s not much point in being here, is there, FN-2187?”

“No,” Finn muttered, taking the cup and inhaling deeply. “Guess not.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Ren drawled, dark eyes glinting as he threw open an exam room door and ushered Finn through. “Good luck.” 

The door clicked closed behind him and he was left alone.

Alone with Poe Dameron’s jacket, a clear plastic cup and a few outdated Playboys.

“Okay,” he breathed, glancing between the exam table and the single chair. He hesitated, shrugged into Poe’s jacket, grinning to himself, before reaching for his fly; taking his cock in his hand, he perched on the edge of the exam table and said firmly, “Let’s do this.”  

He’d just begun working himself up, when the door was cracked open and Poe Dameron’s grinning face appeared around the edge. “Hey buddy, Phasma said you have my jacket. Oh, well hey there!” he said, eyes locked on the sight of Finn’s semi-hard dick and lotion slicked hand wrapped tight around its base. “Man, they are going to  _ love _ you here.”

Finn just stared at him, completely shocked, and tried to think of something clever to say.

Anything.

“Need some help with that?” Poe asked, completely oblivious to Finn’s awkwardness, slipping fully into the room now and closing the door behind him. His eyes were sparkling with laughter and interest and Finn’s cock twitched in his hand, the other man’s scent washing over him awakening something carnal deep within his gut. 

“Uuuh, are you allowed to be in here?” he choked out, glancing nervously towards the door and Poe shrugged. 

“They won’t care as long as that cup gets filled,” he said, stepping up into Finn’s space, eyes drifting from his full hand to the jacket he suddenly felt really stupid for wearing. “You look good in my jacket Finn,” he said and the humor in his eyes had been replaced by something Finn thought might resemble the heat flushing his skin and making his cock hard. He began to shrug out of the jacket but Poe stopped him, hands settling on his shoulders, bottom lip disappearing between his teeth for a brief moment. “No, no, keep it,” he said. 

Finn swallowed heavily, eyes locked on Poe’s full bottom lip, remembering what it had looked like when his teeth had tugged at it and he couldn’t stop from groaning as his cock hardened and arched in his fist towards his belly.

“Now we’re talking,” Poe said, laughing, hand reaching out to cup the swollen head. “This okay for you?” he asked, brow wrinkling in concern when he met Finn’s gaze. “You seem to enjoy me being here but I don’t want to push you…”

Finn shook his head. “Don’t-don’t go. This place creeps me out,” he rasped, hand pumping as he fucked himself into Poe’s hand. 

Poe snorted and rolled his eyes. “Bunch of pretentious creeps, really,” he muttered, thumb brushing over Finn’s slit and swirling in the precum starting to bead there. “But the money’s good and I figure it’s better than watching it run down a shower drain. Here, let me.” 

He brushed Finn’s hand aside and gripped his cock tightly at the base, other hand reaching out to cup and massage his heavy balls. 

“Oh God, baby. You’re hotter than hell,” he groaned, hand sliding over Finn’s slick skin smoothly. Finn’s eyes rolled back into his head, his legs spreading instinctively and his hands tightened on the exam table’s edges. 

The hollow slap-slap of Poe jerking him off, punctuated by the other man’s words of encouragement got him off faster and more forcefully than he’d ever been able to do in the past and he came with a muffled shout, teeth locked on his leather clad arm; his hips bucked, cock sliding through Poe’s hand as the other man laughed and he almost didn’t notice the harsh edge of the plastic sample cup brushing the tip of his penis. 

“That’s right, baby, fill it. Fill it up, good job,” Poe said, hand wringing every last bit of semen out of him it felt like and he fell back on the exam table with a groan.

“What the-what the hell?” he whispered, stars dancing in his eyes and every muscle going limp with his release. 

“That was beautiful,” he thought he heard Poe say and he struggled to open his eyes but ultimately failed. Lips touched his forehead briefly, the musky pine and motor oil scent he would forever associate with Poe Dameron washing over him and a piece of paper was tucked in one of the jacket’s pockets. 

His eyes flickered open when the door clicked shut and he frowned but his room was empty.

Empty save for a plastic cup, lid tight and completely full now, sitting beside his hip. 

“What the  _ hell _ ,” he groaned, reaching down to tuck himself back into his briefs and tug his pants over his hips. 

It shouldn’t have been hot. 

Everything he’d ever heard about sperm banks and fertility clinics had seemed anything but hot. 

But that…

That thing he’d just had with a complete and utter stranger?

_ That  _ had been hotter than anything else he’d ever done in his life. 

He was still trying to gather his wits about him when the door was opened once more and dry, completely humorless Ren stepped through. 

“Knew you could manage,” he said with a disdainful sniff when he took the warm plastic cup from Finn’s shaking hand. “Good work. Your efforts will not go unnoticed.” 

The cup was tucked away in one of the deep pockets of his scrubs and as Finn prepared to leave, he smirked. “Not quite yet, FN-2187,” Ren said, reaching into the other pocket to retrieve a syringe, clear tube and a tourniquet. “Now comes the fun part.”

Finn sighed. 

Phasma’s cold aloofness he could handle. 

But Ren’s sarcasm?

That was just a little too much.

Half an hour and several vials of blood later, he emerged from the cool interior of First Order, $350 richer (with another $350 to come if his background check checked out), out onto sunny D’Qar street.  

It was quiet in this part of the city, the cars far nicer than the ones he was used to seeing around his motel and he sighed, shoving his hands into the jacket pockets.

He was halfway towards his bike, when his fingers brushed the ragged edges of a piece of paper.

He stopped, frowning and pulled his hand out, the folded up piece of paper-from one of the clinic’s impersonal brochures-tight between his fingers and, heart hammering, he unfolded it to see Poe Dameron’s name scrawled in looping black script, followed by a phone number and the words,  _ Call me the next time you come. _

 


	2. Maybe We Make A Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably put a disclaimer in here that I have NO idea how sperm banks work and how sperm donors work.

**Rey**

“Okay so I know you’ve had a long week at the shop and that Luke is kicking your ass, so you can get everything done before the wedding, but I really need to talk to you about something extremely important tonight.”

Rey groaned internally and tugged a clean tank top on; she’d only just gotten home from work-where she’d been stuck trying to finish installing a new exhaust manifold on Mr. Snoke’s souped up Chevy BelAir-all on her own-and pretty much every muscle in her back and shoulders felt like it had seized in the process. 

Not even the hottest shower in the world could have helped. 

And she’d tried.

“Jess,” she sighed, rubbing her towel over her hair once more before tossing it on the toilet seat and nudging the bathroom door open with her toes to slip into their bedroom. “I really just want to eat take-out and veg tonight; do we have to talk about anything more serious than pizza versus Chinese and what terrible movie we want to watch?”

The last thing she wanted to do tonight was talk about wedding stuff or the honeymoon. 

She spent most of the day listening to the guys talking about it at work. 

Jess was grinning at her, perched in the middle of their bed and she was completely naked. 

Rey froze, her brain stuttering into static at the sight of her girlfriend’s breasts swaying as she bounced and the sight of two cartons of what smelled like Chinese being held in her direction. 

In the space of two seconds she forgot how sore her back was.

Or how much she had left to do before marrying the woman grinning up at her in less than a month.

“Is your mouth watering because of the food or because of  _ other _ things?” Jess asked, her back arching teasingly and her lips curled in a sly smirk. 

Rey took a deep breath, eyes closing as she tried to block the images of her girlfriend’s perfect breasts swaying from her mind and finally laughed. 

“God, you’re a menace, Pava,” she growled, sliding onto the bed beside her and snatching what she hoped was General Tso’s from her hand. She pressed a light kiss to the breast closest to her though, removing any sting from her words and settled back against the head of the bed with a groan. “Eat first, fuck later,” she muttered around a mouthful of greasy, spicy chicken. 

Jess snickered and settled between her legs, leaning back so her head rested between Rey’s breasts. “So, I was thinking,” she said slowly, fork spinning in her carton of noodles. 

Rey frowned, setting her already half-empty carton on Jess’s head and muttered, “Did it hurt?” She reached for the TV remote, but Jess stopped her.

“Funny, real funny Kenobi,” she grumbled, tossing the remote to the other side of the bed, despite Rey’s protests. “Listen, I was thinking today at work about  _ us _ , us as unit. You and I dated for three years, we’ve been engaged for a year, we’re getting married in a few weeks and now I really,  _ really  _ think we need to move up to the next level.”

She sat up, turning to face Rey, and the nervous expression on her face, paired with her flushed cheeks was enough to make Rey hesitate while eyeballing the just-out-of-reach remote. 

“When you say ‘next level,’” she said slowly, eyes narrowing as she set her Chinese aside, “do you mean get a-”

“I want to have a baby!” Jess burst out, bouncing once more and Rey’s mouth froze on the word  _ dog. _

“Oh,” she said, completely floored, mind skidding to a halt. “Okay, um...Wow. A baby. All right, sure. Baby.” 

Jess gasped and tugged Rey into a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of her lungs. “Seriously?! You’ll do it? You’ll have a baby with me?”

Rey was still trying to process the word  _ baby _ -it kind of felt like her brain had forgotten what to associate with the word itself-and she muttered, her mouth full of Jess’s hair, “Kind of need something important if we’re going to have a baby together, babe. Something neither of us has. Or at least, one that functions in the way we need it to for this sort of thing.”

Jess snorted, waving the words away with a certain air of disregard that made Rey realize she’d been thinking about the  _ baby _ thing for a lot longer than that day at work. 

“I know that. We’ll have to go to a clinic. I found one actually, that I think would be great for us,” she said, reaching over Rey to tug her side-table’s drawer open and remove a brochure she’d tucked between the pages of her latest before-bed read. She held it out, every inch of her trembling with excitement and Rey couldn’t help but smile back as she took the pamphlet. “This one’s just down the road from the shop, actually. You’ve probably seen it. It’s called First Order. Which kind of sounds like a weird hipster fusion restaurant,” Jess said, curling up against her, her head resting on her shoulder. “But it has some of the best reviews I’ve seen online yet and some of its donors look like they’d fit in well with us, so that’s a good thing right?”

Rey snorted, eyes skating over some of the more bullshitty jargon the brochure sported and glanced at Jess. “Just thought of this at work today, huh?” she asked, grinning when Jess flushed. 

“I might have already gone in and asked them how it works and what we’d have to do,” she muttered, eyes dropping and blush deepening. “I saw it the other day when I stopped by to bring you lunch.” 

Rey sighed and set the brochure aside. She’d read it later, when Jess was asleep and her naked body pressed into hers wasn’t so distracting. “If this is something you really want, babe,” she said, bending so she could meet Jess’s gaze. She smiled and leaned in to kiss her gently, “I’ll do it for you.” 

“Thank you,” Jess whispered, smiling against her lips and reaching up to tangle her fingers in her hair and tug her down into a deeper kiss. “I love you, Rey Kenobi.” 

Rey snorted and straddled her hips, pinning her wrists in one smooth motion; Jess groaned, arching her back and Rey shook her head. 

“I hope you love me,” she growled, taking a nipple between her lips and dragging her teeth agonizingly slowly over the pebbled flesh. Jess whimpered, hands straining against Rey’s grip and she grinned, releasing the nipple and blowing gently against the abused peak. “‘Cuz I’m putting you in charge of baby-proofing this place,” she finished. 

“Fuck you, Kenobi,” Jess panted, unable to stop from grinning, closing the distance enough to kiss Rey, who was still laughing. “You’re a menace.”

“You like it,” Rey growled back, breaking the kiss to trail her lips down Jess’s sweet, naked body; she smirked when she nudged Jess’s legs open and trailed her tongue lightly along her already soaked slit. “Now hold still, you monster. I need to finish my dinner.”

**

“You seem distracted Rey.”

She glanced up from her computer the next morning, to see  _ Ben’s  _ co-owner and her adopted uncle leaning in her office doorway. “Hey Uncle Luke,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily and stretching for a moment. “I’m just tired. Last night was...a long one.” 

Luke Skywalker’s lips curled in a crooked grin and he pushed off the door jamb to make his way into the rest of her office. 

“Are you and Jessika getting pre-wedding jitters? You’ve only got a few weeks left. Kind of late to start having second thoughts, isn’t it?” he asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs she had set before her desk for clients, before bending to scoop up his ancient dog, Artoo. The mutt was old and going silver now but never far from Luke’s side and she couldn’t help smiling at the sight of him sighing and settling into Luke’s arms. He arched a brow at her and she sighed. 

“No, we’re not having second thoughts about getting married,” she said folding her arms on her desk surface and resting her chin on her hands. “I love her so much, no matter how crazy she gets about seating arrangements and whether or not my tux will fit right. It’s just…” She sighed again and fiddled idly with one of her pencils, gaze drifting from her dangerously full desk calendar to the nondescript brochure with its minimalist design and impersonal technical jargon that she’d taken out of her back pocket that morning when she’d sat down at her desk.

She’d walked by First Order this morning, having purposefully gone to a coffee shop near the clinic before heading to work. The place really did look like one of those stuffy fusion cafes that had been popping up all over the city and she’d shivered, part of her telling her to run away and never look back.

But Jess…

Jess wanted a baby. 

And Rey loved her too damn much to not give her anything she wanted.

“Rey, what’s wrong?”

Luke’s voice, so gentle, broke her free of her reverie and she shook herself before silently handing him the brochure. 

“Ah,” he said, flipping it open and slipping his glasses on so he could read the light grey font. “She wants to have a baby, then.”

Rey sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, dismantling the sloppy bun she’d pulled it into that morning before kissing Jess goodbye and rushing from their house. Jess had smacked her ass, yawning hugely and muttered something about meeting her for lunch but Rey had been so focused on finding the clinic and  _ not  _ being late to open K and S, she hadn’t paid much attention. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this yet,” she said now, rising from her desk to pace nervously towards her window that overlooked the shop floor; there were two cars down there that she and her crew were supposed to be finishing up today.

But her work was the last thing she could think about today and she sighed. “I mean, I like kids. But I don’t know, raising one? I don’t think I’d make a great parent. And we’re getting married in a few weeks. Shouldn’t we be taking this one step at a time?” 

Luke’s light grey eyes were crinkled at the corners, his smile hidden by his beard and he set the flier aside. “Mara and I got married so young,” he said, rising stiffly from his chair, Artoo tucked under his arm. The little dog grinned at her, tongue curling out of its mouth and she reached out to scratch the top of his head gently as Luke came up beside her. He sighed. “There wasn’t time with the war though, to really settle. And then once I got back from ‘Nam, your grandfather needed help with this place. It never seemed to be the right time to start a family.” He turned to face her, gripping her chin lightly between thumb and forefinger and his smile was bittersweet. “You love Jess and you both have the opportunities that Mara and I never had. I know what Ben would tell you, too, if he was here.”

She sighed and nodded, turning her gaze back to the cars below them and their crew who were just starting to arrive, loud voices echoing in the cavernous space. 

“What if I fuck up though?” she whispered, tears starting to well in her eyes and she sniffed when Luke chuckled and tugged her into a one-armed hug. “I never-never got much parenting growing up.”

“Listen, Rey,” he said, kissing the top of her head and squeezing her once more before heading towards the door. “Fucking up is what parents do best. And most kids end up all right. So I think you ladies will be okay.”

He winked at her, slipped through the door and she choked out a laugh, hands rising to wipe traitorous tears from her eyes as she listened to him start barking orders to the guys. 

“Okay,” she breathed, hands rising to pull her hair back into order; she glanced at the First Order pamphlet and tucked it once more into her back pocket. “Okay, keep calm Kenobi. It’s just a kid, what could possibly go wrong?”

Squaring her shoulders she gritted her teeth and hurried from her office, shouting as she did, “Enough chit-chat boys. Solo’s coming for his piece of shit in three hours and we need to make sure it’s as road-ready as that hunk of garbage is ever going to be. And if I catch you checking your reflection in Maz’s rearview again Wexley, you’re buying us all lunch today.” 

Loud laughter greeted her words, the men greeting her as she dropped down into the pit with them. She grinned, everything she’d been stressing about-wedding, baby, parenting, ugh,  _ all of it _ -fading away as the comforting scents of motor oil, grease and chrome-polish surrounded her. 

For the time being, this was all that mattered.

Her work.

Her crew.

The cars they prided themselves in restoring and shining up for the customers that had been coming to them for the past three decades since the shop had opened. 

“Okay, we got this,” she whispered, mostly to herself.

And she grabbed a wrench. 

  
  



	3. live and die this way

**Poe**

The Spitfire was giving them all grief, one of its cylinders refusing to fire no matter how hard they tried to get it clear and Poe cursed the ancient plane, striking its painted nose lightly with the flat of his hand.

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, arm rising to wipe sweat from his eyes. “Why’d you have to do this to me now, baby? The show’s this weekend.” 

The Aviation Museum’s hangar bay was quiet this early in the morning; he was usually the first one to get to work every day and it was something he reveled in. Except, of course, when one of his planes was giving him trouble and he really needed another set of hands to turn a crank or hold a second wrench while he struggled to get a stripped bolt free. 

“If I’d known you were going to do this to me, I’d have told the General to ground you and put the bi-plane up instead,” he grumbled, jumping from his ladder to head towards his workbench. He slowed when he caught sight of someone sitting at his desk, her booted feet crossed carelessly atop the scattered blueprints and air show itineraries and grinned. “Pava, what are you doing here so early?” he called, ducking under the wide wing of their only flight-ready B-52. “You aren’t scheduled for tours until noon.”

His co-worker and longtime friend glanced at him over her shoulder and smirked. “Figured the Spit was going to give you problems so decided I’d stop by early to cheer you on and also take sneaky pics of you almost-naked to send to Snap. I also figured you were up late last night with whatever you’d brought home from Maz’s so I brought you coffee and a croissanwich.” 

She held out a grease-stained paper bag in his direction, as well as a very tall paper cup from which issued the mellow smell of fresh, black coffee and he groaned. 

“You are an  _ angel _ , Jessika Pava,” he said, grabbing the coffee and the bag before bending to kiss her fully on the lips. “I swear, woman,” he growled, grinning as he pulled away and she began to laugh. “If I wasn’t gay and you weren’t getting married to a woman I can only assume is descended from Amazon warriors, I’d pull you into the B-52’s bomb bay and have my way with you, right now.” 

She snorted at that and rolled her eyes, glancing at her phone to see a message from the General’s assistant, reminding her of her elementary school tour. “If I remember correctly, both Rey and myself have had our ways with you and you’ve enjoyed it, so your gold star isn’t as shiny as you say it is,” she muttered, thumbs tapping out a quick affirmative to the stuffy secretary and hit send before glancing up to study Poe. Her eyes narrowed then, slyness replacing humor. “So, be honest, who’d you meet at Maz’s last night?”

He paused in the middle of a huge bite of croissant, egg and bacon and frowned. “Didn’t go to the bar last night so didn’t meet anyone,” he mumbled relatively coherently and almost choked on a laugh when Jess’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Am I that predictable that you’re shocked when I say I didn’t sleep with anyone the night before?” he muttered once he’d swallowed; he nudged her boots off of his desk and sat down, rolling his eyes when she set her feet in his lap instead. 

She shrugged. “I’ve been flying with you for years now, Poe,” she said, propping her chin in her open palm, dark eyes sparkling as she watched his flush move from his cheeks down his neck. “Let’s just say, your history doesn’t lend itself to the statement ‘I didn’t meet anyone at the bar last night.’” 

His flush deepened and he really didn’t have anything to say to that. Which just made her snicker. 

“Thought so,” she said smugly, pressing a booted foot lightly against his groin and he smacked her toes before sipping his coffee. “So who is he? What’s he like? Are you going to call him back? Did Maz set you up? Did this one have a micro-penis?”

He choked as the rapid-fire questions washed over him and began shaking his head. “Hold on, hold on, hot-shot,” he said, tapping her foot when her mouth opened to shoot another question at him. “Let me, like,  _ digest _ my breakfast first.” He couldn’t help laughing when she wrinkled her nose at him in a petulant expression. “Okay,” he said, leaning over to toss the empty paper bag and sandwich wrapper into the nearly overflowing bin set to the side of his desk. “First things first, yes, I did meet someone.”

“Yes!” she crowed, pumping her fist quickly and grinning at him. He just shook his head and muttered, “Rey is right. You  _ are _ a menace. Need to lock you away before you corrupt the rest of our youth.” 

She nudged him with her foot again and waggled her eyebrows. “Okay, so you met  _ someone, _ ” she said, grin growing when his hips pressed into her foot absently. “Who is he?”

“Second of all,” he said firmly, grabbing her feet by their heels and pushing them off of his lap, so he could jump off the desk and pull the Spitfire’s repair manual off of the chaotic shelf at his back. “I didn’t meet him at Maz’s, since I didn’t go out to the bar last night. I met him at this place I go to sometimes to blow off some steam and make a little extra cash on the side.”

He turned his back to her and dropped the heavy and grease-stained binder down on his desk with a grunt. The engine needed to be repaired before Saturday. And with them being short-staffed now that it was summer and the college volunteers had all gone to their respective homes, it was just going to be him and maybe Snap Wexley if he could steal him back from  _ Ben’s _ , getting all five planes ready for the show. He didn’t figure he’d be able to get Jess to help, despite her being here so early; she didn’t care much about the planes, beyond flying them.

Which was fine with him and the General, since she was one of their best pilots but unbelievably terrible with power tools.

“Who was your latest conquest, Poe Dameron?” she whispered suddenly, lips pressed to his ear and he jumped, which made her laugh; she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and squeezed, nuzzling her nose gently along the outer shell of his ear, tongue stroking so lightly he shivered. “C’mon Dameron, you always tell me about your sordid one-night stands. Seriously, you know I live vicariously through you, now that I’m a respectable lady, about to settle down for good. Was he hot?”

Poe’s eyes closed, the memories of “Finn’s” cock filling his hand, once more washing over him and he gritted his teeth, tamping down the hot wash of desire he’d been unable to fight for the past twenty four hours. 

_ Was he hot? _

So hot, his head thrown back on his shoulders, neck cording as he struggled to keep from shouting. His cock, heavy and solid in Poe’s hand, thrusting as he fucked himself in his grip. The way Poe’s jacket had hung off of his shoulders, a perfect fit. 

The interest in his eyes when he’d stepped through the doors of the clinic and the bright smile he’d had despite the chilly interior and Phasma’s characteristic prickliness. 

Finn had been the most gorgeous person Poe had ever seen in his life and the memories of his smile and the feel of his dick that Poe had barely been able to hold in one hand, rubbing slickly through his grip, had fueled a night of bruised balls and three cold showers. 

“Yeah,” he said, grinning as he tugged her into a headlock and began dragging her towards the Spitfire’s bay. She shrieked, laughing and smacking him ineffectively, but he didn’t let her go. “Yeah he was super hot. Now come on, we gotta get the old girl flight ready or the General is going to have our balls.” 

“You jerk!” she panted, still laughing. “I brought you coffee! I brought you a pity croissanwich! I just got a fresh manicure! Why you gotta do this to me Dameron?”

He planted a sloppy kiss on her forehead and handed her a greasy wrench, which she took despite her protests, still laughing. “‘Cuz I love you too much Pava.” 

**

“Hey, grease-monkey, we have lunch!”

Poe poked his head into the pit beneath the glossy white and powder blue ‘57 Studebaker and grinned when Rey Kenobi looked up at him in surprise. 

“Poe?” she gasped, pushing her safety glasses up onto her forehead, inadvertently leaving a long streak of grease on her cheek. “What are you doing here? The General’s car isn’t supposed to be picked up until we close tonight!”

Her eyes were wide with horror at the thought and Poe grinned. 

“Don’t worry, Kenobi,” he said, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. “She’ll be sending Chewie for it I’m sure. Or Luke will drive it over once he closes up after you. I’m just here with your future wife and sandwiches.”

She blinked owlishly at him for a moment, not really processing his words, obviously still working through the short burst of horror-fueled adrenaline at the thought of messing up a project deadline and he sighed, reaching into the pit to offer her his hand. 

“You still like sandwiches, right?” he asked when she shook herself and took his hand, letting him help pull her up the steep stairs. “And you’re still marrying that lazy bag of bones who panics if she thinks her newest manicure is going to get messed up if she has to hold a wrench?” 

“Well, if you’re offering to take her off of my hands, Dameron,” she said, ducking her head to get out from underneath the Studebaker’s bumper. “I might let you have her. The sandwich though,  _ that  _ you’ll have to fight me for.”

Rey laughed, tossing her glasses, tools and the rag she’d used to sort of clean her hands onto the pristine workbench set out of the way on the back wall of her shop;  _ Ben’s _ was always clean, Poe reflected as she jotted a few notes in the notebook sitting open on the bench. The grey cement floors were glossy at all times, not so much as an oil spill or paint splatter splashed across its surface; the walls were lined with tools, all organized by type and size, everything hanging in its rightful spots. Everything shone and yeah, it  _ smelled _ like a garage, but even that seemed organized. 

He’d never seen the place in a shambles. 

Never seen the benches cluttered.

He grinned wryly and shook his head. 

_ His _ workstations were always on the verge of chaos. He joked with the General that he knew just where everything he needed was-usually when something he  _ really _ needed had vanished and a pile of papers or manuals was about to topple on him. The General would only sigh and shake her head, muttering something about the follies of hiring pilots for secretarial work, before leaving him to his plight. 

“Do you ever just want to, like, mess this place up?” he blurted when they began heading towards her office. 

She hesitated, frowning as she glanced at him over her shoulder and he waved his hand broadly, taking in the entire garage. “You know, do you ever just...Want to take those tools off the walls and scatter them everywhere or tear some pages out of your manuals and throw them on your desks? Or smear yourself in grease and roll all over the floor? Seriously, Kenobi. A garage shouldn’t  _ be _ this clean.”

She was still frowning at him, hand frozen on the stair railing that led up into the upper balcony overlooking the shop floor and asked, genuinely confused, “But why would I want to make a mess in the shop? I need to find my tools quickly and I don’t like replacing my manuals until I really need to…”

He sighed and placed a finger on her lips. “Stop Rey,” he said, grinning when she glared at him. “I was just joking. I love that you keep this place so clean. It’s freaky, but I love it. Now come on, let’s get up there before Jess eats our food.” 

She smiled a little uncertainly at him, nodded and turned away to walk up the stairs in front of him. Her ass was eye-level, so it wasn’t his fault really when he noticed a familiar looking brochure peaking out of her back pocket. 

His heart stuttered in his chest and before he could stop himself, he was snatching it out of her pocket and shaking it open. 

“You two are going to First Order?!” he asked, eyes wide as he took in the cool minimal design of the sperm bank’s info-pamphlet. “You’re trying to get  _ pregnant _ ?!”

He stood there, frozen on the heavy steel stairway leading to the shop’s offices, but honestly, he didn’t see  _ Ben’s _ or its owner turning to stare at him, mouth open in shock and eyes wide. 

He didn’t see Jess appear in the doorway of Rey’s office, mouth already full of sandwich, her eyes just as wide as her partner’s. 

All he saw…

All he saw was Finn arching into his hand, eyes squeezed closed, cum glistening on the tip of his dick.

“Fuck me,” he breathed, eyes fluttering closed, teeth clenched on the memory of Finn shouting as he came. 

Jess’s voice broke through the sudden onslaught of desire and memories. 

“So...How exactly do you know about the sperm bank down the street?”

He flushed and couldn’t help but laugh. 

“How do  _ you  _ guys know about the sperm bank down the street? Hmm?” he asked, grinning now as Rey blushed and Jess’s eyes narrowed in consideration. 

“We might have a use for you after all,” she said, brushing past Rey to curl her arm through his and begin dragging him up the stairs towards Rey’s office. “Come with us Mr. Dameron and let’s  _ talk.” _

 


End file.
